Demolition Angel
by Sailor Zoisite aka Shinigami
Summary: The Gundam pilots are pretty lucky guys. Think they're getting a little "divine" help? Angels turn up in the most unexpected places and people . . .


Title: Demolition Angel

Title: Demolition Angel

Chapter: Prologue

Disclaimers: Not mine, not making money, don't sue, property of Bandai/Sunrise/etc.

Warnings: Will eventually contain yuri, het and some yaoi. You are warned.

Five minutes to go.

I hadn't wanted this job. The war forced it upon me. Yeah, right. I've told myself and everyone else that enough times that everyone believes me, everyone but me. I don't believe myself when I say that, because deep down, I know it's not true. I know that I live for the thrill of doing something that could kill me, that I live for the destructive nature that overwhelms me, that is a part of me. Trowa's not the only one wearing a mask. I swear, I must have multiple personalities from the way I jump from the peace-loving person I show the world and the destructive angel I become when the war demands I do.

Four minutes to go.

They'd never guess, would they? I'm good at what I do; almost too good. I scare myself sometimes. Who would think that I, of all people, am capable of such destruction to my enemies that I've earned the name Demolition Angel from them? Angel, hah. What a joke. Maybe once, but no more. Still, my looks help. Most everyone underestimates me, even my closest aquaintences. My friends. What would they think? I'll never tell them, not even after this war is over. It would be too dangerous, and I don't want them hurt. I'm here to help, as the second half of my names implies. As for the first half, well, that's a different story. If the pilots get too out of control, then they die. It's as simple as that. Yes, even Trowa. Trowa . . .

Three minutes to go.

Trowa is a different story. I love him. He's a part of me that I'm not sure I can get rid of. He's such a mystery, even to me, and that's very appealing. I want to know more about him, but he never opens up. Oh, I've gotten through to a degree, but not as much as I'd like. I wonder, would he, above the rest, understand me? What I have to do? _Why_ I do it? Oh, shut up. Even if he would, I can't involve him. It's not a choice. He can't know, and neither can the others. I'm the angel, remember? My presence is to be felt and guessed at, never seen. Never heard. Yes, I walk a cold and lonely path, and I yearn for another's presence to share my way, but it's all an illusion. Life is an illusion. What I'd give to have Heero's lack of emotion. That would make my job so much easier, if I didn't care.

Two minutes to go.

But I do care. I can't not care. I can be as cold and ruthless as I like when I'm doing my job, but when I sleep the doubt comes. It always does, creeping over me like a shadow, and I don't have a light to push it away. My waking hours are hardly enough; I can feel it, just on the edges of my senses, waiting for me to let my guard down. Doubt does that to a person. It eats at you, and you can't stop it. At least, I can't. I'm not that strong, no matter how strong I am. In moments I'll be up, and across the world OZ will get a real surprise. How do I do it? Wouldn't OZ like to know. Hey, I'm an angel. I come and go as I please, with no one the wiser to my actions. Trowa can disappear all he wants, but I've mastered the art of being across the world and back, timing it so no one notices I'm gone. Sure, I may not get as much sleep as I'd like, but at least OZ is suffering. Blame it on the Gundams, boys. Not this innocent, war-hating soul.

One minute to go.

The mask goes back on. Soft voice, ready smile, caring soul. It's a bad sign, isn't it, when you can replace your soul? Change it at the drop of a hint? I want a normal life; I want this war to end. And that's why I'm fighting. To end it. No one can stop this beast on their own, not even my beloved pilots. They need some divine assistance, and that's what I am. A tad bit fallen, but hey, perfection is boring. I've done my job for tonight, and now I can do what I truly love. Nevermind the fact that twelve hours ago what I 'truly loved' was sneaking into the OZ base and setting the bombs, then sneaking out again. Ah, well. Some things never change.

Showtime.

The lights come up and the crowd goes wild, in perfect synchronization with the explosions occuring in the OZ base half a world away. My timing is impeccable, and I smile. "Come on, Trowa. I promise I won't nick you this time." I bring my arm back, a devilish smile crossing my face. "And this time, _try_ to look a _little_ more scared?"


End file.
